The Outlaws
by Weatherlibby
Summary: Sawyer leads a team of notorious outlaws who terrorize the Old West.
1. The Outlaws

A young man stood in a graveyard, behind the old church. He stood by two graves dug a long time ago.

"I'll find him." He said to the graves, not really talking to the dead but to himself, a statement of reassurance, that his whole life of searching had not been in vain. Then stood in silence. The man entered the church, taking his hat off as he let in a cloud of dust, letting all his sandy blond hair fall down.

"James." The preacher acknowledged. The man nodded his head. He walked from the steps of the church. He had been coming every since his parents' death, all those years ago. Ever since the bank robbery, when he was only eight, he had been orphaned. The young man mounted his horse, being careful not to drop the letter that he wrote to the man that killed his parents. Bent on revenge, he started to ride.

At the saloon, in a different town, the Scottish man sat at the bar, drinking his glass, not looking at anyone. He too, was looking for someone, but it was not in vengeance. He had left her in England, to prove to her father that he was good enough to marry her. Now, he realized he was right. He wasn't, and never could be, good enough for her. Spending all his money in this bloody useless town, drinking his life away. Three years he had stayed, not interacting with anyone, failing Penny. The mines were useless. How can you become great working in a mine? You can become rich, but no one can be as rich as her father. He took no notice of the man holding a notebook, with a skinny tie around his neck, sitting down at the bar a few chair away from him.

"Boy! Get in here and help me with this patient!" Christian Shepard yelled. The young man came into the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"She's sick." Dr. Shepard said sarcastically, pointing to the patient on the table who was coughing. The man looked around the room.

"Give her some of that." he said, pointing to a vial on the counter.

"Why should we waste it on her? She's only a woman."

"It'll cure her. That's why. And just because she's a woman doesn't mean you can deny her treatment." Christian sighed. That stuff would cure her, but it was usually used for stronger sicknesses. Though not wanting to waste any, he admired his son's ability to want to help everyone. Unfortunately, Christian didn't have the courage to tell his son how proud he was of him.

"You can leave now." Christian told his son. The man left the room, and sat down in one of the chairs outside, in the lobby. He wondered what he had done to make his father hate him.

An Iraqi man sat inside the sheriff's office. Being the sheriff's and detective's right hand man, he did the things that they, by law, weren't allowed to do. He had just made a man confess to the murder of the banker's wife. He felt very bad about what he had done. His parents had come from Iraq, but he had been born in the U.S. After his family died, he came to live out here, and this is where's he's been ever since. He has a reputation as a torturer. He's never enjoyed it, but rather looked at it as something that had to be done. The man he had gotten to confess was being hung tomorrow. The sheriff made a special request that he be there to watch. The Iraqi adjusted his hat.

"_I have got to get a better job..._" he thought.

Another man sat in a rocking chair outside the saloon, playing his guitar. Another man, probably of Chinese descent, sat in the chair next to him, napping. The first man put his guitar and shook the other man awake.

"Hey! I was sleeping." The Chinese man said. Ignoring him, the first man said,

"There's someone out there." He said, pointing to the man on horse back riding into town. The man, who had tanned skin and blond hair, but not at blonde as the first man's, didn't look very friendly, menacing, even. He turned to the Chinese man.

"Who do you think that is?"

"The president. How the hell do you think I know?"

"Well pardon me, I mean, what if he's important? What if he can help us get out of this bloody useless town?" The horseman dismounted, the guitar man's comment sparking his interest.

"So, you want out of this town? May I ask why? It's mighty charmin'."

"Who are you?" The man hesitated, then said,

"Sawyer." The two men stared at Sawyer. "I don't get your names?" The guitar man, feeling guilty, said,

"I'm Charlie. And this is-"

"Don't tell him my name!"

"-Miles."

"I'm gonna kill you, Charlie." Miles warned.

"So why do you want to leave this, well, beautiful town?" Sawyer asked.

"Cause there's nothing to do! It's too bland. No action. The only important thing that's happened in the past decade is the murder of the banker's wife, but that Sayid guy tortured the criminal into confessing." Sawyer nodded, looked around. When he was sure no one was listening to them, he whispered to Charlie and Miles,

"What if I told you I could turn your lives around, bring more action into them than any of the stories you've ever heard?"

"I'd say you were off your sodding rocker." Charlie replied.

So, just in case you didn't get who they were, in this chapter we introduced Sawyer, Desmond, Daniel Faraday, Jack, Sayid, Charlie, and Miles. I'm pretty sure that's gonna be the band of outlaws, but please review and tell me who you think would be good in the gang.


	2. The Recruiting

The next day, everyone was gathered in at the town gallows, where a murderer would be hung. Desmond, Jack, Dan, and Sayid all stayed near the back, with Sawyer, Miles, and Charlie few feet back.

"So, let me get this strait, you want us to be in your outlaw gang?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Yeah. You said this town was borin'. It'll be a nice change." Sawyer whispered back.

"Well, you can't possibly have a successful chain of outlaws with only three people." Charlie said, stating the obvious.

"That's why we recruit more. You see that guy over there?" He asked, pointing to the Iraqi. "You say he's a torturer. You'd think he'd be good with a gun, right?"

"Well, he got that guy to confess." Charlie said, referring to the body that was now dangling in midair. "So I assume he's good at convincing people." Sawyer made a mental note to go and smooth talk this guy into being an outlaw. He pointed to another man, by the saloon, stumbling around, obviously very drunk.

"And do you know him?" Sawyer asked.

"Desmond? He's almost never sober." _Perfect,_ Sawyer thought. He'll be real easy to convince.

"Does he hate this town too?"

"Yeah. Left his love in England, I hear. Misses her. But he's stuck here." Even better. He sought out others who looked sick of the town. He picked out another, who looked very intelligent.

"Does he hate life here?"

"Dan? Yeah, he does." Miles butted in.

"Does he have any family, y'know, that'll keep him from comin'?"

"Just a mother who's not proud of him. He'll leave her."

"He's smart?"

"Extremely. The man's a genius." Charlie said. Six in the team. Not bad, Sawyer thought. Maybe room for one more. His eyes scanned the crowd that was now leaving. He spotted a young man standing next to an older man, and he turned to Charlie.

"Who's that guy?"

"The doctor, Jack. And his dad, Christian."

"Do they get along?"

"No. Christian's always yelling at him."

"So he's a doctor?" Sawyer said, thinking he'd be perfect if one of them got hurt.

Sayid walked to the saloon. It was nerve-wracking to watch a man you just tortured yesterday die. After he ordered his drink, a drunk man sauntered over to the bar where he was sitting. He sat down and ordered a beer. The drunk man looked embarrassed, and he apologized.

"I'mmsorry." He said in a Scottish accent, his words slurred. "I'm...Desmondhume..."

"Sayid." he stated. Sawyer walked in, glad that two of his targets were in the saloon. From what Charlie and Miles had told him, Desmond would be easily convinced, and Sayid would if you mentioned that he could give up torturing forever. He sat down to the right of Desmond.

"Tough goings, huh?" he asked nonchalantly. Sayid nodded.

"I just wannagetout ofthis BLOODY awful town..." Desmond yelled.

"I could help you do that." Sawyer said, looking down at his glass.

"How?" Sayid questioned.

"Oh, there's no time for questions." Desmond nodded.

"I'd do ANYTHING togetouta this town..." he said, swaying.

"What about you?" Sawyer asked Sayid.

"Why not. I have nothing better to do. And being what I am now only brings me pain."

"What do you do?" Sawyer asked, even though he knew full well what he did.

"I am a torturer." Sayid laughed. "I don't even know why I am telling you this."

"You're telling me, because you know if you come with me, you'll never have to torture another person again." Sayid was hesitant. He did not exactly trust this man, but he gave a good argument.

"So what will we be doing, once you get us out of here?" Sayid asked. Sawyer moved closer, and talked I n a voice so low you could only hear if you were a couple of inches away from his face.

"We're gonna be outlaws."


End file.
